Dunkin' Donuts

May 29, 2008

It’s been a long time coming, Ms. Congeniality, but you’ve finally been outed as the terrorist you are. God. I mean, all that smiling should have been the first clue. There’s absolutely nothing in this world worth smiling that much about unless you have murderous jihad on your mind. And her constant cooking? I hear terrorists love to cook things up. And when they set the timer for 30 minutes, they really mean exactly 30 minutes.

As for the scarf, I can’t really get too worked up about it. No matter what you call it, it’s just a goddamned scarf. To me, a scarf symbolizes a warm neck and little else. But ask anybody and they’ll tell you I’m not much for accessorizing. I do wear pants, however. Are the terrorists known to don the occasional trouser? And will I, therefore, no longer be allowed to wear pants? If so, thank Allah, because I’m sick of putting them on every time I have to leave the house.

Anyway, I’m willing to let the scarf go, but I still think Rachael Ray should be added to our Most Wanted list for her other crimes against humanity. Along with Michelle Malkin for trying to dictate a dress code for Americans. That’s often the first step in your garden-variety extremism.

March 25, 2007

Boy, do I owe you a HUGE apology. Here I was thinking you were being all “What a loser,” and “How much of a freak can you be with the donuts?” when, all along, you were secretly plotting the biggest doughnut coup in history.

For a while there, though, I thought your customer service department really needed to work on its communication skills. I mean, I’ve sent moreletters than I care to admit about your pitiful excuse for a chocolate honey-dipped doughnut, and the only response I received was, quite frankly, disappointing. But, I can see that I’ve underestimated the Dunkin’ organization. Fueled as you are by nearly illegal amounts of caffeine, you’ve taken the “less talk, more action” approach. I can respect that. I guess my ex-boyfriends were right, after all.

Rachael Ray’s overthrowing of whoever the previous Dunkin’ Donuts mascot was makes a lot of sense. She’s got moxie. Plus, you don’t want people going around thinking that the ridiculous level of perkiness she displays can be achieved by non-chemical means. Good thinking. But, more importantly from my standpoint, she has the skills it will take to lead the mighty crusade to save the doughnuts. If anyone can keep the glaze from soaking right in, it’s her. Who knows what other tricks she might have up her sleeve? Maybe two or three new varieties of chocolate honey-dipped doughnuts? Churros?

Now, that’s what I call customer service. I take back almost everything I’ve ever said about you (but, the sucky doughnut part applies until further notice). Give yourselves a nice pat on the back. And now I have to eat Humble Pie. Do you make Humble Pie? If not, you should. You could even name it after me. “Tammy’s Chocolate Honey-Dipped Humble Pie” has a nice ring to it. That’s it, I’m writing a letter to Rachel.

March 11, 2007

Well, loyal readers, my letter-writing campaign has finally paid off. Pure logic and determination have prevailed. Dunkin’ Donuts has decided to bring in the big guns to get their doughnuts back up to snuff. And it’s all thanks to me. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you to pastry fixer-upper extraordinaire…Rachael Ray?

Wait, seriously? Why, at this very moment, she graces the front, sides, and back of at least three boxes of cereal and crackers in our house, a shocking exposé of how many Nabisco products are currently stashed in our cabinets. It may also explain why my kids sometimes refer to her as “Mommy.”

Yes, apparently, Rachael Ray is the new face of Dunkin’ Donuts, on top of everything else she is the face of. Odd bedfellows, but I guess the girl really needs her coffee. It certainly wouldn’t be the first substance-related hook-up in history. If only Fred the Baker were alive to see this, he might have gotten that much-needed spring in his step.

I can only hope that her cute self will be spending just as much quality time in the Dunkin’ test kitchen, baking doughnut after resurrected doughnut, as she spends at myriad photo shoots and important coffee-related press conferences. As part of her reign, she promises to help DD deliver “better-for-you” food. Funny, I didn’t know health figured into their mission statement. Still, it shouldn’t be too hard. When you’re starting with coffee and doughnuts, there’s really nowhere to go but healthier.

But, before we start adding crazy new products to the Dunkin’ Donuts repertoire, we ought to go back to basics. Really focus on the important things. No, not coffee, damnit, my chocolate honey-dipped doughnuts.

Save the doughnuts, Rachael Ray! The hopes and dreams of at least one person are pinned entirely on you. I know you won’t let me down.

February 19, 2007

Okay, DD (can I call you that for short, now?), your time is up. It has now been a very generous 60 days since my last letter and, still, your doughnuts are crap. I take this to mean that you have no intention of improving your doughnuts and that, in fact, you were mocking me with your earlier letter.

Fine. Two can play that game.

Actually, I stink at that game. So, I’ll make a deal with you. Hand over the recipe for your original chocolate honey-dipped doughnuts, and I’ll stop with the letters. If you’re not using it, you might as well donate it to a worthy cause. And I can think of no cause more worthy than me: she who represents the doughnut-loving population you ignore.

To sweeten the deal, I’ll even help you rename your coffee franchise to something more appropriate. Something that takes the emphasis off the edible doughnuts you no longer possess. I’ve already begun brainstorming. To keep signage costs low, I’ve made every effort to build off of the existing words. As a gesture of goodwill, here’s a sampling of what I’ve come up with so far:

For college towns: Flunkin’ Donuts

Urban enclaves: Ain’t Dunkin’ No Donuts

Professional office buildings: Junk ‘n Joe…Nuts!

Everywhere else: Just Coffee, OK. What Do We Look Like, Rosie’s Bakery Or Something?

And while you’re at it, if you happen to have the original recipe for Chock Full o’ Nuts’ whole wheat doughnuts, I’ll take that, too. Thanks.

February 04, 2007

Now that we have the whole Lite-Brite situation under control here in Boston, we can all emerge from our makeshift bomb shelters (lit, ironically, by Lite-Brites) and discuss some serious news.

I don’t know about you, but I have trouble getting my daily recommended allowance of caffeine. Sure, there’s coffee, tea, soft drinks, chocolate, Red Bull, Jolt gum, etc. But all of these caffeinated items are really hard to find. And only come in limited quantities. And are very, very expensive.

I often find myself thinking, how can I get even more caffeine than what three cups of coffee has to offer? A caffeine-laden doughnut on top of it all would really help.

Wish granted. A North Carolina scientist has finally answered the foremost question in everyone’s minds: how to cram caffeine into baked goods (I guess someone forgot to show him the Pollan article). To read more about the Buzz Donut, which packs the punch of two cups of Joe, treat yourself to the comedic stylings of CNN.

But what really got me going was the news that my favorite “donut” establishment, in lieu of improving the flavor, texture, and overall appeal of its doughnuts, is considering the addition of the Buzz Donut to its repertoire. Because, perhaps, then you won’t notice that their doughnuts suck. And maybe, just maybe, you can set a personal best for caffeine consumption with fewer trips to the loo.

It looks like Dunkin’ Donuts may well be on its way to a menu composed of 100% caffeine. Next in their product line: delicious, sugar-coated needles.

(A special thanks to Harrison3 for keeping me up-to-date on current events.)

January 08, 2007

In response to my earlier complaint about their crap-ass doughnuts, Dunkin’ Donuts sent me an e-mail. I have to give them credit, they wrote me back within 24 hours. I have no idea how they pulled it off so quickly. Here's an excerpt:

Dear Tammy

Thank you for taking the time to contact Dunkin' Donuts. We always appreciate hearing from our customers. It's important to us to get feedback both good and bad about our products and the service you receive at our shops. We will make sure your comments get heard and shared with the appropriate people.

At Dunkin' Donuts we value our customers and…blah, blah, blah, more stuff cut and pasted from what they sent to the last crackpot to write in, subtext: what’s wrong with you, it’s a stupid doughnut, don’t you have a life?…

Thank you and have a great day.

Customer Relations Associate *Boy, do I hate my job* # 23

The answer to your question, CRA #23, is a resounding *no.* I do not have a life.

This was my reply to their reply:

Dear Dunkin’ Donuts:

Thank you so much for your very personal and heartfelt response. In these cynical times, it’s nice to know that one person really can make a difference. I’m so glad that one person is me.

Since you’ve been so open to constructive criticism, I will share one more story to illustrate further the need to improve your doughnut-making technique, specifically, but not limited to, your chocolate glazed variety.

Over the summer, we hired three college students to paint our house. My husband, who was heading in your direction anyway to feed his thrice-daily ice coffee addiction, brought back a dozen doughnuts for them, as well as a keg of coffee to fuel their well-meaning-but- slackerish spirits. The young men politely accepted the offering and, after several enthusiastic keg stands, then proceeded to eat none of the doughnuts. Not a single one. All day long. College students.

My husband speculated that they were all diabetic. What are the odds of that?

I wish I could participate in the recent coffee craze, but I don’t drink coffee because I don’t do drugs. Well, except for chocolate. The way I see it, you’re on borrowed time. It won’t be long before they’re on you the same way they’re on the cigarette companies. And when that happens, won’t you wish you had a halfway decent doughnut to fall back on?

I appreciate your willingness to share my comments with the appropriate people. I assume that can only mean the CEO of Dunkin’ Donuts, himself, Jon Luther. I’m sure he will be devastated by popular opinion and will enact changes with great haste. How long do you think it will take? Three weeks? A month? At any rate, I look forward to seeing the improvements we talked about in early 2007.

Thank you for such a dynamic customer service experience. I look forward to another delightful response!

Sincerely,

Tammy Donroe

P.S. I hope they aren’t paying you in doughnuts.

I sent this two weeks ago. They never responded. I can’t understand why.

December 15, 2006

This is not a doughnut. It's a number. The number of doughnuts you should ever eat from Dunkin' Donuts.

Dear Dunkin' Donuts:

Why do your doughnuts suck so badly?

It wasn’t always this way. I can distinctly remember, as a young girl in the 1980s, when my parents would bring my sister and me for a doughnut after church just a stone’s throw from your flagship Quincy store. It was the high point of my week (the doughnut, not church). Despite the threat of burning in the fiery bowels of hell, I would spend the entire sermon lusting after the tasty fried ring of dough that would soon be mine, and agonizing over the ever-looming dilemma: Boston Krème v. Chocolate Honey-Dipped.

They each had their charms: sweet, gooey cream in a heavenly pillow of dough topped with finger-licking chocolate frosting, or cakey chocolate dough with a hint of spice (Cardamom? What was that flavor?) fried until crispy on the outside and enrobed in the sweetest, most divine coating ever to grace a nook or a cranny. And nooks and crannies there were in abundance, thereby vastly increasing the amount of surface area to which the glaze could adhere.

After silently debating the pros and cons of each throughout Communion, and double-checking my work while offering each other the sign of peace, I had my answer. Chocolate Honey-Dipped, all the way. By the time I held it in my trembling hands, and took a bite, I was sure there must be a god. My prayers had been answered.

But, somewhere between 1985 and 2006, something went terribly, terribly wrong. These days, when I turn to my favorite doughnuts for comfort, someone posing as a purveyor of fine pastries hands me something that looks like a greasy sponge. And it tastes like one, too.

Where are all the nooks and crannies? What happened to the glaze? Why do they look so small and unnaturally round. Frankly, it feels like a slap in the face.

What happened? Did the secret recipe die with the “Time to Make the Donuts” guy? Really, you should have written it down. Or was the technique too expensive to maintain during your quest for total doughnut market domination? Perhaps, you were trying to keep up with trends or changing tastes? Whatever the reason, I’ve got news for you, what you have come up with is NOT GOOD. Perhaps, you haven’t noticed the complete lack of doughnut-dunking going on.

Here’s my advice. Spend some time in a quality doughnut shop. No, not Honey Dew -- they stink, too. I was going to say Verna’s in Cambridge, but word is you finally succeeded in running them out of business. Thanks.

Might I recommend the Hole-in-One in Eastham or The Hole in Orleans. Get comfortable and remind yourself of what a good chocolate honey-dipped doughnut really tastes like. Better yet, try their sour cream glazed doughnuts. It may take some effort not to soil yourself -- don't worry, this is normal. Take copious notes, and then, without infringing on anyone’s intellectual property, please make some improvements. After all, do you really want to encourage people to taint those delicious cups of Joe with substandard doughnuts? One can’t live on coffee alone.

I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time to answer sincere letters like this one, what with all the early-morning baking that goes on and the rigorous coursework over at Dunkin’ Donuts University. Still, I would be curious to know the time line and specifics of the decision-making that brought your once-exalted donuts to such a spectacular low.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

Tammy Donroe

P.S. Your other baked goods aren’t so hot, either, but they don’t feature quite so prominently in your name.